


Reunion

by kbecks87



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bed sharing (for contrived reasons), Chloe KNOWS, DeckerStar pairing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lucifer Is Back, No I don't really explain how he leaves Hell, Now complete, Post Season 4, Soft Chloe Decker, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), WIP, alternate universe season five, no beta (we die like men), yet another Lucifer returns fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbecks87/pseuds/kbecks87
Summary: Most days, Chloe really believed that she would never see him again. Outside of those first few months when she saw his face in every crowd, looked for him at every crime scene, listened for his voice every time she was at Lux. Outside of those first few months, she only let herself believe in the possibility of seeing him again in her most desperate moments - when she needed something like hope to cling to the most. In all her fantasies, it never went like this...
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 27
Kudos: 198





	1. Not Done Yet

Most days, Chloe really believed that she would never see him again.

Outside of those first few months when she saw his face in every crowd, looked for him at every crime scene, listened for his voice every time she was at Lux. Outside of those first few months, when everyone at the precinct asked when he was coming back constantly, when Dan made awkward jokes about how much easier their job would be while Lucifer was on _vacation_ , when Ella and her endless optimism told her how sure she was that Lucifer was just ‘doing his thing’ and would be back any day now as often as she could. Outside of those first few months when Amenadiel and Maze searched endlessly for ways to bring him back from Hell and it always ended with Maze throwing something across the room and cursing while Amenadiel closed his eyes with a sigh. Outside of those first few months when Linda met each of Charlie’s milestones with a bright smile and then a soft sigh as she imagines what faux mockery Lucifer would have met the accomplishment with. Outside of those first few months, when Trixie asked where Lucifer was all the time, asked if Chloe thought he was okay or if she knew when he was coming back, when ‘do you think he’ll be back for my birthday?’ and ‘do you think Lucifer will come with us to the movie next week?’ were common refrains in the Decker house.

Once those first few months melted away and everyone started to come to terms with Lucifer’s absence the best they could, Chole convinced herself that she would never see him again. It was the only way she could function, they only way she could move forward from the loss of him. To have no hope was better than to have false hope. But, in quiet moments, when she allowed herself to live in the fantasy of his return, it was always the same dramatic reunion. It was always them falling immediately, easily, together, usually in the lush of his bed at the penthouse, love and longing surrounding them. It always ended with them in the easy lockstep of a relationship – the happily ever after of a childish fantasy. But, it is what she allowed herself, when she needed _something_.

Interestingly, now that he is home, she still indulges in the fantasy from time to time. Because, he is back, but the reunion was nothing like she dreamed of.

-

He’d just shown up one day, Amenadiel found him sleeping at the penthouse, laid out face down on the couch like he hadn’t even been able to make it to the bed, his devil form a mismatch of new burns and scars. When Amenadiel shook him awake, he’d slipped back into the flawless form they were all used to. Amenadiel had called them all to the penthouse – Maze getting there first since she had been just downstairs at Lux, and by the time Chloe arrived the three of them were standing at Lucifer’s bar, chatting as if no time had passed.

When Chloe stepped off the elevator and turned to meet Lucifer’s eye, she felt like she was living in a moment of suspended animation, caught between one breath and the next, not sure if what she was seeing was real. “Detective,” Lucifer had whispered, hardly loud enough for her to hear over the blood rushing in her ears.

“Lucifer” she breathed out his name and for some reason that broke the spell and she rushed forward, flinging himself into his arms (she thought they would be waiting for her, but instead it throws him off balance and they both sway a little until Lucifer rights them, holding them steady). His arms come around her, slowing folding until she is surrounded by him – his face in her hair and his unsteady breath against her neck. For a moment, his hand fists in her hair, the other hand pressing against the small of her back to keep her close while she stands on her tip toes to press as close to him as she can.

Then, Maze sets her glass down on the bar and for some reason Chloe still can’t decipher, that breaks the spell. Lucifer clears his throat lightly and she feels his hand tighten in her hair for just a second before he drops his grip on her and takes a shuffle step back from her. She fights the instinct to hold on tighter and forces herself to let go of him as well, rocking back down to the flat of her feet and taking a half step back into her own space. She doesn’t realize that she’s got tears on her cheeks until she reaches up to push her hair back and she wipes at her eyes a little. She’s trying to think of something to say when the elevator dings and all of their attention is drawn to it, so Linda steps into the penthouse with all eyes on her.

Linda mumbled something about having to find a sitter, and sorry for being late all while looking at Lucifer like she is trying to decide if she is seeing a ghost. She must decide something after a moment, because she pushes forward, towards Lucifer, and Chloe steps around the bar so that Linda go to him. “Hello, Dr. Linda” Lucifer mumbles, bending down so that Linda can hug him.

Chloe had no idea what her face was doing, but it must have been bad because Maze reached over and covered Chloe’s hand with hers, squeezing gently. After Linda steps away from Lucifer, he pours them all drinks and they settle in to the sofas in the sitting area and Lucifer explains how he sealed the gates of hell and would be back, for at least the length of their lifetimes. Maze seems to be the only one keeping up with the intricacies of the explanation, but they get the gist – Lucifer is back, at least for now. Hours later, they are all leaving and Chloe hangs back a little, thinking Lucifer might want to talk, but he’d just smiled gently at her and wished her a good night so she left, more confused than she’d ever felt in her life.

-

He’d shown up at the precinct with a cup of coffee for her and a box of pastries for the rest of the precinct a week after that night at his penthouse as if nothing had happened, as if he’d never been gone at all. He’d set the coffee down on the edge of her desk and when her eyes raised to meet his, he’d looked at her with barely disguised mix of hope and trepidation until she’d gestured to the chair across from her and he’d broken into a cocky grin as he slid into the seat. It was a testament to Lucifer that the precinct accepted him back so easily, no one asking too many questions, and everyone thrilled to see him. Ella basically tackled him when she caught sight of him from her lab.

“Is this strictly necessary?” he’d said with annoyance that everyone could tell was fringed and after a moment of indulging in the hug, he started to lean away but Ella held on tighter.

“Not done yet” Ella mumbled, not letting go. Braver than Chloe had been in her own reunion with Lucifer. Finally, she lets him go and he pats the top of her head like she is an errant puppy, but there is no disguising the affection in his eyes.

-

Later that day, Dan had walked up to Chloe’s desk with a file in is hand, reading stats off the file before he caught sight of Lucifer sitting at the edge of her desk and trailed off. His eyes shifted between Chole and Lucifer rapidly for a comically long time before he settled on Lucifer and raised an eyebrow, “You’re back?” he asked, inflection unreadable.

Lucifer glanced down at himself, like he was making sure, “It would appear” he answered.

Dan just nodded a few times, reached his hand out and waited the long moment it took for Lucifer to reach his hand out as well, before he shook Lucifer’s hand awkwardly and mumbled a “Welcome back, man.” Before dropping the file on Chloe’s desk and walking away.

-

Trixie has had so much instability in her life that Chloe debated whether telling her Lucifer was back is a good idea or not, but ultimately, she knew that if Lucifer stayed (as he seemed to intend to do) her daughter would find out one way or another, and Chole knew it was better if it came from her and was intentional. So, three weeks after the night at the penthouse, she’d told Trixie that Lucifer was back over dinner, trying to make it as casual as possible.

And since Trixie is, at heart, her mother’s daughter, she had a million questions – where was is, is he staying, is he okay, the list was long, but mostly Trixie wondered if Lucifer was okay. Chloe was honest, or as honest as she could be (‘I don’t know, baby, I hope so’).

The next day, Maze picked Trixie up from school for a ‘friend date’ as Trixie had taken to calling them, and they dropped by the precinct so that she could see Lucifer. He had agreed to this, but when Trixie’s voice filled the room (‘Lucifer!’) he still looked surprised. Trixie ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed against his hip until he pulled her back from her (long enough for her to visibly worry that he didn’t want her near him) so that he could sink down to his knees and properly hug Trixie. “It’s nice to see you too, Urchin” he says as they detach and he rises back to his full height.

Trixie had a growth spurt while Lucifer was gone – she and Charlie are probably the most obvious, visual, representations of the time he has missed and Chole can see him processing that as Trixie talks a mile a minute about some school project she is doing and Lucifer nods along. 


	2. Well, we can’t have the urchin starving

It has been three months since Lucifer’s return and Chloe is probably more confused than she ever has been.

She knows from Maze that for Lucifer, in Hell, time passed differently and for him more than ten years went by for their almost one, but Chloe has no idea what he went through while he was there. She knows that it was bad – whenever anyone get close to the topic his eyes get dark and his demeanor cagey. And she has no idea how he feels about her now or where that leaves them. Time had cast a romantic gaze on her last moments with Lucifer, but now in the harsh starkness of reality she remembers that he never said he loved her too, she remembers how he left her behind (not for the first time), she remembers his words at Lux the night Caleb was killed (But I don’t like how that makes me feel, either), she remembers the empty feeling in her chest when she opened her eyes to an empty balcony.

“Good morning, Detective” followed by the sound of a full coffee cup being set down by her keyboard pulls her from her thoughts.

“Good morning, Lucifer” she returns, holding the cup up in thanks before taking a sip. All their interactions are so silted now – overly polite, or Lucifer making lascivious comments with no intent behind them (almost like he is trying to prove that he still can). It is like their history has been erased, or not erased exactly, like they made an agreement to put it behind them that she can’t remember signing off on, because sometimes someone will make a comment that will remind them on an old inside joke and their eyes will meet and she will see his fill with mirth, a comment on the tip of his tongue, before he swallows it and blinks until his eyes give nothing away. She hates it, but she is afraid that if she names it or questions him about it, he will disappear completely. And even this, having a version of him that looks at her more like he is confused by her than like he loves her, is _so much_ better than not having him at all.

And, sometimes, when she moves fast enough, she catches him looking at her like he used to. Looking at her like he is just about to talk to her, really talk to her, before he catches himself and shakes his head. And she believes, has to believe, that when he is ready, he will come to her. And she’ll wait. God, she’ll wait.

She takes another drink of her coffee, “We’re just waiting on the warrant to come through on the ex-boyfriend’s place” she tells him. They’ve slipped back into the ease of a professional partnership well - it bears the stress of their history and of words unspoken, but it as always done that, has always been strong.

He nods, and ‘ah’ type sound accompanying the movement as he picks up the case file and flips through it absently, obviously not reading any of it. She’s typing, trying to get ahead on her paperwork for once when he huffs a little, “well, this is boring” he announces and makes a show of standing up and glancing around for something more fun to do. And she smiles, enjoying the moments where he feels like himself and not like a performance of himself. Something shiny must grab his attention because he lets out a quiet ‘ah-ha’ before starting off towards something. But he hardly makes it a full stride from her desk before a notification blinks on her screen.

“Hey, we got it. Let’s go.” She says, glancing over at him as she stands and pulls her jacket on. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about ruining all his fun, but none of it has any heat behind it and he falls into step behind her easily.

When they get to the house, they knock and no one answers, it looks empty – lights off and driveway empty, but the warrant grants them access anyway so Chloe turns to Lucifer, “Do you want to like…mojo the lock?” she asks, wiggling her fingers a little in his direction, in lieu of breaking the door.

“Honestly, Detective, it’s not a party trick.” But she hardly has time to worry that he is truly put out because he smirks at her just after and she rolls her eyes, gesturing for him to get on with it, and he does, opening the door and waving her inside as if it were nothing. They go in and search the house first, to make sure it is truly empty and when they are satisfied they are alone, start the search for the murder weapon.

They have been there about twenty minutes, searching in relative silence when Lucifer moves from the mud room to the kitchen, which she only knows because he shouts out a disgusted “everything in here is expired or growing mold”.

Chloe makes a face, but then thinks about her own kitchen and thinks maybe she shouldn’t judge. If she didn’t have a child to feed, she’s not sure she’d be much better. She’s trying to remember the last time she went to the grocery store when the butt of a gun comes down against the back of her head with a crack she doesn’t hear. She yells out at the impact (she think’s it was Lucifer’s name, but she can’t be sure) but then she goes down hard, trying to catch herself on the banister of the stair rail behind her but missing it and falling to the ground.

She doesn’t know exactly what happens next, her vision is blurry and time feels a little disconnected from reality, but she knows that Lucifer is in the living room faster than feels possible and he has grabbed her attacker from the doorway while he was attempting to flee. From Chloe’s perspective it looks like a cartoon, Lucifer grabbing the back of his shirt or his neck and pulling him from the doorway, his feet flying off the ground to follow his body like a shadow and the door slamming shut to trap him in here with them. She hears the man scream and then he falls to the ground a lot like she did, but then, Lucifer is next to her.

He sits and pulls her head into his lap like it is a pillow and pulls at her hair so it is out of her face and away from the wound. She didn’t know she was bleeding, but the next time she sees his hand there is blood on his fingers and the sight of it helps her focus. She blinks a few times and that is when she realizes that he is speaking, “Chloe…you’re okay…I’ve got you…you’re alright” it’s an endless string of nonsensical assurances that seem like they are as much for him as they are for her. It’s the most affection she’s heard in his voice since he got back and for an indulgent second, she lets her eyes slip closed and listens to his voice. But then it cracks around her name and she feels awful for letting him worry even a second longer than he had to.

She forces one palm to lay flat against the wood floor and uses it to push herself to a half-sitting position, her other hand on Lucifer’s leg. He has one hand on her cheek immediately, using it to hold her steady while his eyes search hers, his other hand ghosting over the back of her head where there must be a small cut from the impact. “It’s fine…I’m fine” she promises, her voice smaller than she’d like, but steady. Lucifer shakes his head a little and then pulls her into him, his hand staying on her cheek while his other arm wraps around her.

She feels guilty for enjoying the warmth of him, the touch of his skin against hers that she has wanted so badly but hasn’t had. She feels worse when she realizes that the feeling of his lips moving against her forehead is him mumbling a string of apologies. She pulls back a little, just enough to look up at him, and shakes her head a little, “Lucifer, no, it’s not your fault” she whispers, worrying that anything louder could break the moment and send him skittering away from her.

He shakes his head a little, but now it is her turn to lay a hand on his cheek, to force his eyes to hers. He leans into the touch, eyes slipping closed despite himself. Ella told her a few weeks after Lucifer came home that she believed wherever he had been was bad for him and that, particularly, he was touch starved and lonely. Chole felt bad, not for the first time, that Ella didn’t know the truth. But, also, didn’t think that telling her that her friend had been in hell for at least a decade would help her either. It made sense – Lucifer was a man who loved to touch, sexually of course, but also casually. Not at first, people had to earn it, but once they did – a touch on the arm, a guiding hand to the small of the back, a quick tap to gain attention, it all became very common place. And there would be no one to touch for the king of Hell. And, when she thinks about it, since his return he has seemed very unsure of touch – she thought it was just a continuation of the weirdness that surrounded them (the way he would reach for her and then let his hand drop, the way he would step around her when it looked as though she might reach for him) but now she wonders if it isn’t so much more than that. Particularly, if it is occurring in his other relationships as well, and it must be, for Ella to notice it.

“Oh, Lucifer…” she whispers, tracing shapes under his eye with her thumb, but whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of sirens stopping outside the house. The sound shocks Lucifer back to himself as well, he sits up straighter so her hand falls heavily from his face before he stands, reaching his hand down to help her up. She stares at it for a moment, the gesture so formal and disconnected, before she takes it and lets herself be pulled to her feet. She’s over confident though, a wave of dizziness causing her to sway a little when she turns to face the door a little to quickly. Lucifer’s hand is on her hip, steadying her before she has a chance to worry.

Dan and four uniformed officers are at the door, and she can see an ambulance parking on the street outside, but she only has to be confused for a moment, because the uniforms go to collect her attacker and Dan comes over to her and Lucifer, “Thanks for calling it in, man” he says, slapping Lucifer’s back appreciatively (Lucifer flinches, just barley, but Chloe is pretty sure she only notices because his hand is still curled around her hip) before he turns to Chloe, tilting her head so he can see the wound. Lucifer’s hand drops from her the moment Dan touches her, like he forgot it was there, like it burns him all the sudden. “That is some blood” he tells her, rubbing his fingers together in her hair where it must be caking, but he says it with a smile, because he knows she would rather that, “You alright?” he can’t help himself.

She nods, “Yeah”. She sighs, “I feel fine…dumb,” she gestures to the stairs she had her back to, the ones he came down to surprise her, “but fine” she finishes, smiles so he knows she means it.

He shakes his head a little, an assurance that her mistake could happen to anyone and then shrugs one shoulder, “Why don’t you get checked out,” he gestures to the medical team outside, “and then head home. I can finish up here”. Chloe waffles, she wants to finish what she started, but she can feel the blood drying in her hair now and she knows staying probably isn’t practical. “I can pick up Trix in the morning – you can sleep in, I’ll just let myself in and grab her” if he’s going to finish up here tonight, there is no way he’ll also be done in time to get Trixie before she is in bed, grabbing her in the morning is the best compromise he can offer. It’s sweet, the offer, and Chole thinks – not for the first time – that they are so much better at this than they ever were in a relationship.

He wants to help, she can see it on him, but she still wants to give him an easy out, just in case, “You don’t have to do that” she says, means it.

“It’s no problem. It’s settled. It’s a plan” he says in quick succession. She breathes out a laugh, which she suspects was the goal and nods a little. “I’m sorry I can’t get her tonight, but,” he gestures around, “there will be a lot to catalogue”

“No,” she shakes her head a little and immediately regrets it as a headache starts to build, “tomorrow morning is…that’s perfect” Dan shrugs a little, “Thanks, Dan.” She says and he smiles. “I’m gonna…” she trails off, pointing to the medical team outside and Dan nods, tells her to get some rest.

She worries that Lucifer will disappear, but he trails behind her on the way to the medical van and leans against the side of it making half hearted jokes to one of the paramedics not working on her about getting set up with the good drugs while she is checked out. She can’t see him, but the sound of his voice, the assurance that he is still there, it helps.

It’s quick – she wasn’t too badly hurt, and the cut is shallow, the bleeding already stopped. They give her some ibuprofen for the developing headache and tell her to get some rest. She nods, thanks the medical team, and stands, ready to leave. She is contemplating if she should offer to drop Lucifer off a Lux on her way when he appears at her side, pulling the keys she knows she put in her jacket pocket earlier out of his own pocket and holding them in the air, “I’ll drive” he says, his cheeky grin an approximation of itself. She waves at Dan who is standing in the doorway to the house and slips into the passenger seat of her own car.

The drive is quiet, she keeps forgetting about the blood coating the back of her head and leaning against the headrest of the car only to remember and jerk forward. At a red light, Lucifer shrugs his jacket off and puts it behind her head. “You don’t have to -” she starts but he shakes his head so she bites her tongue and leans her head back.

When they get to her place, he parks in her driveway and looks over at her. She’s half asleep, but she knows she is home, she just has to convince herself to wake the rest of they way up and go inside. Lucifer’s hand slides over her shoulder and he whispers “Detective”. It’s enough to make her eyes slide shut even though she knows that is the opposite of his goal. He chuckles lowly, his thumb coming up to trace the underside of her jaw, “Come on, Chloe”. He sill uses her name so rarely that just the sound of it, low and sweet, sends a shiver up her spine. She blinks her eyes open and smiles at him, is rewarded by a real smile in return. He pulls they keys from the ignition and presses them to her palm, “Home sweet home” he mumbles, quiet, squeezing her shoulder before letting her go. She misses the touch right away.

They both get out of the car and she stands awkwardly by her closed door for a moment, gathering courage, “Do you wanna…?” she gestures towards her home. He hasn’t been there since he’s been back and she didn’t know she’d miss his breaking and entering so much. He’s waring with himself, it’s plain on his face even though she’s sure he thinks he’s hiding it behind stoicism. “You don’t have to” she adds quickly, not because she wants to, but because it hurts less than rejection.

He’s quiet when he says, “If you’re sure you don’t mind” and she should give him an out, tell him ‘only if you want’ or something like that. But she _wants_ , so she smiles, nods, almost takes his hand but thinks better of it at the last moment (wonders if he noticed the movement) and leads them inside.

Trixie is home by herself – at twelve Chole had conceded to more freedom and more responsibility. Amber, the seventeen-year-old across the street, checks in every hour as a compromise and Chloe makes a mental note to text her to let her know that Chloe is home early and she is off the hook for the rest of the day. She’s doing homework at the kitchen table even though she can’t have been home from school for more than half an hour now and it’s a Friday. “Mom!” she says standing up and going to the door, which Lucifer closes softly. It’s maybe the first time that she and Lucifer have walked in together and Trixie has noticed her first. _And all it took was a little blood_ , Chloe thinks to herself with a smile.

“It’s fine,” Trixie doesn’t look convinced, so she adds “I got checked out at the scene, head wounds just bleed a lot, even the not-so-bad ones”. She leans down to kiss the top of Trixie’s head and Trixie wraps her arms around Chole’s middle in a way that is getting rarer and rarer the older she gets. Trixie still has worry in her eyes when she pulls away but it’s a quiet kind, the kind you resolve yourself to.

“Hey, Lucifer” she says, her attention shifting to the man next to her.

“Little human” he returns, even though she isn’t that little anymore. She knows how disappointed Trixie was that Lucifer missed her birthday, but she never was one for grudges, so she had just said he’d be at the next one when Chloe had asked about it. Chloe wonders now if Lucifer is a little disappointed that he missed it too.

Trixie goes back to her seat at the table, and her textbook and it’s obvious now, how awkward it is, how Chloe and Lucifer have just forgotten to be around each other in any setting but work, and even that is a dubious balance. After a long moment, Lucifer clears his throat lightly, “Are you hungry? He asks her. They were going to get take out after the routine search that lead to her head wound, but obviously didn’t get to it. She nods a little, is about to answer, when Trixie’s voice rings out from the table.

“Starving” she answers and then giggles. Chloe laughing after a second.

Lucifer rolls his eyes dramatically, “Well, we can’t have the urchin _starving_ ” he teases and it makes something in Chloe melt – the easy smile he gives her daughter when she knows his smiles are anything but easy these days. A beat passes and he turns back to Chloe, “Why don’t you get cleaned up,” he gestures to the back of his own head, “and I’ll make us something?”

Her mind sticks on the ‘us’. On the idea of him staying. On how much she wants that. “You don’t have to. We can order something, you don’t have to cook” she says, feeling bad about putting him to work.

His hand ghosts over her hip and she leans in to the almost-touch. It would be embarrassing if he didn’t watch the movement so intently – almost like he was trying to decide if it was allowed. It is, but she doesn’t know how to tell him that. His eyes flick back up to hers, “I want to” he promises, his eyes a little unfocused.

She nods a little, swallows, and reaches out to touch his forearm. He flinches a little and she almost pulls back, trying to swallow down the hurt, but then his opposite hand comes up to cover hers and he leans into her touch just enough for her to feel the shift in weight. He opens his mouth, as though to speak, and then seems to remember that they are not alone, glancing at Trixie out of the corner of his eye. She is blind to them, absorbed in her work, but still – this is too privet a moment to share in any capacity. So, she squeezes his arm, just a little, nods, and whispers a “Thank you” before taking a step back and dropping her hand. She presses a kiss to the top of Trixie’s head and stage-whispers so Lucifer can hear “Don’t let him burn the house down” before going up the stairs, Lucifer’s bark of laughter following her


	3. You Could Stay Here

When Chloe comes back to the kitchen she walks slowly, taking her time. She’s wearing a sweatshirt (it’s old and a little too big on her – LAPD logo fading on the front, from her academy days) it’s a little too warm to be wearing it, but she’s always found it comforting, and leggings, her feet bare. Her hair is still wet and it falls down her back in a mess of tangles – she’d started to pull a brush through it but it had pulled at the scrape she’d sustained and she’d opted to leave it in a mess instead, a wet spot growing on the back of her sweatshirt.

She stops in the doorway when the kitchen table comes into view – Trixie is still sitting and working on her homework but now Lucifer’s jacket is thrown over the back of the chair next to her and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he leans over her right shoulder to look at the problem set she is working on. He’s explaining something to Trixie, and it must be helping because you can see her start to catch on, pencil picking up speed across the paper as she nods along to whatever Lucifer is saying. She could watch this all day, but she must make a noise or something, because all the sudden Lucifer is looking at her, a little sheepish, “Ah, feeling better, Detective?”

She nods, “Yeah” she whispers, soft, and crosses to look in the kitchen. He’s making grilled cheese, and maybe she should have guessed that he would make her favorite, but she still feels her stomach flip at the sight. “You’re making grilled cheese” she says more to herself than to him.

“Yes, well…” he somehow looks both self-conscious and cocky in that moment.

She smiles, eyes flitting away from his to keep from overwhelming herself and in their movement, she realizes that he also has something in the oven and a half-made salad on the counter. “Can I help?” she asks picking up a carrot slice and popping it in her mouth, then laughing at the affronted look on Lucifer’s face.

“Most certainly not like that, Detective” he chastises lightly, pointing her to the table. Instead, she helps Trixie fold away her books, setting them to the side to make room for the food while Lucifer works in the kitchen. She glances over at him, every so often, to see him flipping sandwiches or chopping vegetables – so focused on what he is doing.

After a few minutes, plates appear in front of her and Trixie – grilled cheese sandwiches (cut in half diagonally, the way that Trixie prefers), salad, and potato wedge French fries. He comes back a moment later, setting glasses of water down for her and Trixie (hers in a wine glass, “Just because you shouldn’t mix alcohol and head injuries doesn’t mean you should drink out of a child’s cup, Detective” he says, gesturing to Trixie’s very normal glass of water). Finally, he comes back with a plate and glass for himself, sitting to her side so she is between Lucifer and Trixie. It’s the most at peace she’s felt in a long while.

She doesn’t know what kind of conversation to try to have with Lucifer, and she thinks it shows. He’s hesitant too, his behavior from the last few months coming back now that there is no imminent danger, nothing to do but to just be. Trixie is what saves them, filling the awkward silence with tales of her school day and how her friend just got a new puppy.

Once they’ve eaten, Trixie decides that they are going to watch a movie. She says it as soon as her sandwich is gone and Chloe suspects that she is trying to keep Lucifer there as long as she can – it is easy for Chloe to forget how much Lucifer means to Trixie, how hard it was on her when he disappeared. She can see Lucifer’s discomfort, can read him warring with himself as it plays across his face. Even though she wants to keep Lucifer here too, wants to revel in the novelty of this return to their relationship of before, she gives him an out, “Lucifer might have plans, baby”

Lucifer blows out a small breath and nods a little, like he is making a decision, “Trying to get rid of me already, Detective?” he asks, teasing lilt to his voice. She breaths out a relieved laugh. He fiddles with his glass a little, spinning it on the table, “Why don’t you choose a film, whilst I clean up?” he directs towards Trixie who immediately turns her best puppy-dog-eyes on Chloe until Chloe nods and Trixie gives a little squeal and darts towards the living room. It is one of those moments where she is still a little girl, and Chloe smiles, knowing that those moments are running short.

Chloe turns to Lucifer and smiles softly, he returns it for a moment before he stands, stacking her and Trixie’s plates on his own and standing, turning towards the kitchen and turning on the sink. When she comes up beside him with the glasses, he starts a little, clearly not expecting her. “Detective, please” he says, chiding, taking the glasses from her hands and setting them in the sink. “How are you feeling?” he asks, turning to face her, leaning his hip on the counter.

“I’m okay” she says, quiet. And she is, she can still feel her headache, but it’s more like an annoyance than an actual pain.

“Good” he mumbles. He stands to his full height and clears his throat, “Why don’t you help the Urchin choose a film, and I’ll finish this?”

“I can help, you cooked -”

“Really, Detective,” he cuts her off. He puts his hand on her hip like he is going to use it to lead her back to the living room, but she hisses as the pressure and he pulls his hand from her immediately, like his mere presence is causing her pain. She wonders if he thinks that is true. “I apologize, Detective.” He sounds confused.

“It’s fine. I’m fine” she says quickly. She didn’t feel it when she fell, but she noticed the bruise in the shower – she must have caught the edge of the stairs when she went down before. It’s still fresh enough that the unexpected contact stung. “I just, I have a bruise” she says quiet, not wanting Trixie to hear, and with a little laugh at the end, feeling ridiculous. She wants to reach back out to him – she knows how hard it is for him to be the one to reach out first and she hates that this would discourage that, but he has all ready retreated back into his own personal space. She swallows hard and gathers all her courage to reach her hand out to his – his is curled in a fist, so she settles for running her fingers over the back of his hand and then linking them around his wrist.

His eyes snap to their hands the second she makes contact and though he doesn’t speak, every part of his body tenses. It’s not what she wants – to make him uncomfortable. She just wants to get back what they had, but she doesn’t know how. Maze told her, not unkindly, a week or so ago that she might have to give up the idea that it was possible to go back – that Lucifer might have been through too much to be ready for her. Chloe had said that she’d wait – she waited this long; she could keep waiting. But, now, it occurs to her, that Maze meant he might never be ready, that whatever he went through, it might mean that this, _her_ , isn’t something he wants anymore. He cares for her, worries about her, she knows that – but she worries, now, that she might be trying to force feelings that he might no longer have. She swallows, nods a little, squeezes his hand and slides her fingers off of his and pulls her hand back to her own side.

His hand follows hers though, not a lot, but for a second as she is pulling back, his skin chases the feeling of hers. And that is what makes this so hard. She thinks she could walk away, could content herself with their professional relationship and surface level friendship, if she was certain he didn’t want anything else. But every time he looks at her with longing eyes, or tries not to touch her, or leans into her touch before remembering himself, it makes her question everything, breaks her resolve. She always walks away more confused than when she started. “I’m gonna…” she trails off, pointing towards the living room.

“Very well” he mummers, nodding. She forces a smile before she goes into the living room. Trixie has the original Jurassic Park queued up on the screen (she’d seen the remake at a friend’s house a few weeks ago and abruptly entered every kid’s obligatory dinosaur phase).

“Hey, your dad is going to pick you up in the morning” she tells Trixie, coming to stand behind her. Trixie nods a little – it’s Dan’s weekend anyway, he’s just picking her up early, “So I can sleep in” Chloe explains.

“No problem” Trixie says, but is chewing her bottom lip, so Chloe just waits, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Trixie finally asks, quiet, like it’s a secret.

“I promise, Monkey” Chloe answers quickly.

When Lucifer comes in to the room, he stands awkwardly in the entry, fiddling with the edge of his right sleeve, still rolled to his elbow. “Come on” Trixie says, going over and grabbing his hand to lead him to the couch, situating them so that Trixie is in the middle of them. Every time Chloe glances at Lucifer during the movie, his eyes are glued to the screen – like he is afraid to look anywhere else (even when Trixie jumps a little at the electric fence scene, he only laughs at her when Chloe does – like he wasn’t sure what was expected of him).

They watch the first movie and then that rolls into the second, even though Chloe warns Trixie that it isn’t as good. Trixie shushes her, enthralled, but ends up falling sleep about 45 minutes into the second movie. Chloe shakes her awake gently and when she blinks up at her she smiles, “Hey, brush your teeth and go to bed, yeah?” Chloe whispers. Trixie mumbles something that muse be agreement, because she stumbles up and towards her room, mumbling ‘night, Lucifer’ behind her.

Chloe laughs a little and glances over at Lucifer, but he’s still not really paying attention – his eyes are on the screen, but he looks far away. She slides across the sofa cushion that Trixie had been occupying (and inadvertently under his arm, which he’d slug across the back of the couch to accommodate Trixie periodically leaning over to whisper dinosaur facts she’d recently learned to him during the movie). Her hair grazes his arm as she scoots closer and he blinks several times, like he is just now registering that there is movement, even though she knows that isn’t the case.

“Hey” she whispers when she is next to him – not inappropriately close, they are both on their own couch cushion, but she is next to him now, instead of across the sofa. She feels silly saying ‘hey’ but she wants to speak and can’t think of anything else.

He clears his throat a little and turns his head, just slightly, to be able to better see her, “Detective” he answers, voice just slightly bewildered.

She realizes, now that he is looking at her, that she doesn’t have anything to say. She shakes her head, just slightly, the ends of her hair brushing his arm behind her, and smiles – just a small quick gesture. He looks at her, clearly puzzled – head tilting to the side just so and his eyes squinting slightly, like he is trying to figure her out. But in the end, he just returns her slight smile and turns his eyes back to the television when she does.

He’s tense now that she is right next to him – they aren’t touching, but she can feel it anyway. She feels her self tense too, waiting for him to make his exit. She’s sure it’s coming – every time he makes even the slightest movement, she closes her eyes, preparing herself.

He turns, so slightly, towards her and his arm starts to slid off the back of the couch and in to his own space and she closes her eyes, but forces herself not to react - forces herself not to throw herself at him and beg him to stay, even if some small embarrassed part of herself considers it. When his careful fingers land in her hair, instead, she is so shocked that she gives a little flinch.

He pulls his hand away so quickly that she wonders if it was ever even there, but he stutters awkwardly, confirming it was, “sorry, I noticed,” he gestures to the back of his own head, “it is very tangled” he adds at a near whispers, like he is embarrassed, caught at something he shouldn’t have been doing, or shouldn’t have noticed. He presses his hands flat against his own knees and she knows he is about to push off the couch and leave and she _doesn’t want that_. She can’t stop it either, she knows, but she can at least make sure he knows that she doesn’t want it.

She reaches out and takes one of his hands, her fingers folding over his palm lightly. He’s been about to stand and he hovers over the sofa awkwardly for a moment, before falling back down against it. “I was just surprised” she mumbles, takes a deep breath and hope it gives her courage, “it was nice” she adds, quieter, but looking at him from under her eye lashes.

He pulls his hand free from hers, slowly, watching her hand fall to rest on his knee. She watches him smile as he raises his arm to sit on the back of the sofa again and slowly, _slowly_ , he lets his hand fall to her hair and she pulls in a long breath, forcing her eyes to stay open so she can watch the carful expression on his face. She watches the way his eyebrows knit together in concentration, the way his eyes keep scanning her to make sure he isn’t hurting her, the way he tries to play it off as nonchalant – his eyes flitting back to the television screen every so often like he is just watching a movie, the way he is so gentle with her – not like she is fragile, not like she is going to break, but like she is deserving of his careful movements.

She has to turn her head to give him better access after a bit, and she does it slowly, in measured movements. She lets her eyes slip closed once she isn’t facing him, her head lulling to the side to follow his fingers as he pulls her tangled hair out of its knots so it lays against her back properly. After a while, she feels his fingers comb through her hair perfectly, no tangles left to snag his fingers on. She pulls in a deep breath and lays back against him – her back against his chest, her head tipped to rest on his shoulder, her face towards the television – aggressively casual.

He tenses, and she sighs softly, preparing herself to shift her weight off him and apologize, but right as she is about to, his hand slips off the back of the couch and takes hers, resting their joined hands against her stomach lightly. Chloe breathes out a soft smile, letting her fingers play over his gently as she settles against him. They stay like that through the end of the second movie, and Chole sighs softly as she sits up, hitting pause on the remote before that can bleed in to the third movie. She sits back against the couch after, facing Lucifer who is still staring forward, as if expecting some thing else to be on the television. There is an awkwardness hanging over them that Chloe doesn’t know what to do with.

Lucifer finally turns to face her and she smiles softly, “How are you feeling?” he asks, quiet, gesturing to the back of her head.

She shakes her head a little, “I’m fine, really”.

“Yes, well,” he clears his throat briefly, “it was quite the dramatic afternoon” he tries to make it a joke, but misses. She breathes out a laugh anyway. He reaches out and cups her cheek in his hand, her eyes flick up to meet his and before he can pull his hand away, she covers it with her own. His eyes fall shut and she turns her face in his hand, just slightly, so she can press a soft kiss to his palm. “Detective” he mumbles, his eyes opening as she hums against his hand.

He slides his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, splaying his fingers so some slip into her hair and some play against the top of her spine. Chloe’s eyes snap to his and he slides closer to her, leaning forward. His lips hover over hers, not quite touching, but waiting to make absolute sure that she wants this. She surges up, one hand fisting in his shirt while the other goes to his shoulder, while her lips press against his. He’s the one that keeps the kiss sweet, he nips against her bottom lip, but doesn’t press for more. She wonders if he knows that she would give him more, would give him everything.

When he pulls back, it’s just enough to lean his forehead against hers, and he tucks her hair behind her ears as he does, his fingers drifting to rest against her collarbone. His index fingers run up and down her neck lightly and she breaths out a laugh, her hands running along her shoulders, one of them slipping back to cup the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair. He smiles a little, but she can tell he is still tense. She presses her lips to his again, just a quick press, she’s hoping for reassurance, but it doesn’t seem to make him feel any more comfortable. He pulls her slightly closer to him, pressing a hard kiss to her forehead and wrapping his arms around her, before leaning back slightly to look at her, so focused on her that she wonders if he is trying to memorize her. Finally, he squeezes her shoulder lightly, clears his throat, and stands.

It happens so suddenly, he goes from being in her arms to being separate from her so quickly, that she is left feeling cold and alone. And when she looks up at him, he looks so unaffected that she finds it hard to find her breath (if she could look below the surface, she could see that he is a wreck, but she can’t). “What…why…” she tries to collect her thoughts as she pushes herself off the couch to stand next to him. “Lucifer?” she finally says, eyes not quite meeting his.

“I apologize, Detective, I shouldn’t have…” he trails off, waving his hand in front of him kind of generally.

“Lucifer” she finally says, “why not? I want…” it’s her turn to trail off.

“Chole,” he whispers, sounding sad and resigned, like he is trying to get her to stop lying to him. “You don’t want this” he adds, exasperated like he is having to explain some universal truth to her and is exhausted with the monotony of it.

She shakes her head, she hates being told how she feels, “I told you, before you…left, that I -”

“Don’t” he cuts her off. He sighs and then between one blink and the next he is the devil – his skin red and scarred, his hair gone, his eyes deep red. “You don’t want me” he amends his earlier sentiment, his voice angry and resigned all at once.

She knows that he did this to make his point, to make her run, to prove to him that he is unlovable and to prove to her that she is being silly and short sighted. She can’t help the way she filches when he first changes, it was so quick her mind had trouble processing what was going on, but after she realized what she was seeing she pulled in a slow deep breath and looked back at him. She’s never spent significant time looking at him in this form – with the exception of when he was changing with no control and hiding his body from everyone it had all been quick glances that left her trying to piece together exactly what she saw.

She takes a shuffle step forward and he takes a half step back and it’s then that she realizes how nervous he looks. He is trying to project confidence and control and his stature certainty helps with that, but when she really looks at him and process what she sees through the lens of what she knows of her version of Lucifer she can see how broken he is and how hard he is working to hide that. She breathes out his name and his eyes flick to hers before he focuses on the middle distance behind her. She takes another step forward and this time he stays still, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye as if she is annoying him.

When her hand lands on his arm, just below his elbow, his eyes snap to the spot of contact so fast that Chole wonders if he even realized that he was moving. Chloe looks up at him from under her eyelashes and watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. Her thumb rubs back and forth on his arm softly, the scarred skin bumpy and radiating heat in a way that feels impossible. “Lucifer, I know I made mistakes,” she scoffs a little at her own understatement, but he doesn’t react, “I know that I gave you reasons to question everything, and I don’t know how to fix that.” She lets out a shaky breath, “And if you can’t forgive that, I understand” she hates what she did, how she reacted, but she can’t change it now. “But, Lucifer,” she moves her hand from his arm to his cheek, her thumb running along his cheek bone, he starts, pulling in a sharp breath, but stays, “When I said that I loved you on the balcony, I meant that,” he won’t meet her eyes, “and I just…I need you to know that.”

He’s quiet and he’s not looking at her, looking instead over her head and out at nothing. But his skin is vibrating with how tense he is. Finally, after a long moment, he puts his hand on her hip to keep her in place and takes a step back, closing his eyes when her hand falls from his skin and dropping his hand from her as well, so they are not in contact at all anymore. He changes back in to the vision of Lucifer that she is used to, she doesn’t blink this time, but it still happens faster than she is able to process. He sighs out her name and finally looks at her, eyes somehow sad and full of hope at the same time.

She breathes out his name and moves closer to him, her hand coming up to slide against his chest and to the back of his neck, her forehead pressing against his chest. His arms close around her in a way that feel automatic, like he put no thought into the movement. “I forgive you, Chloe, I did that a long time ago” he mumbles against the top of her head. She lets out a choked sob, relief mostly, without meaning to and when she feels his lips press against the top of her head, she squeezes impossibly closer to him, “but that doesn’t mean -”

“I know that there is a lot to talk about” she cuts him off, “I know it isn’t as easy as this,” she moves back just enough to look up at him, to see his pained expression, as one of her hands moves to rest over his heart, “but I want to figure it out, if you do.”

He closes his eyes and she just waits to see what he is going to say, not wanting to push. After a long moment, where her mind goes to the worst places, he opens his eyes and says quietly, “I would…I would like that as well.”. Chloe smiles, a little hesitant, and nods a little.

He takes a half step back and clears his throat, glancing around like he forgot that he was in her living room. He makes an awkward gesture to the door and starts to say something about discussing things soon and her mind goes to him disappearing for weeks after she told him he made her vulnerable, to Candy Morningstar, to the balcony of his penthouse and before she can think better of herself or apply any logic to her desperate thoughts, she cuts him off blurting out “stay, please” and then clamps her mouth shut off his confused stare.

She closes both of her hands around one of his, trying to make the suggestion and her movements seem causal instead of the frantic she feels, “I just…I just mean you could stay here and we could talk in the morning” she says, trying to quell the feeling growing her stomach that if he leaves now, this understanding, this return to their relationship of past, this _something real_ she’s been longing for ever since he came back, will disappear like smoke…will never have been here at all.

He must sense something in her, because even though he still looks confused, his eyes are understanding as he nods slowly, “Sure, Detective”. She nods back, still trying to calm herself. It’s quiet for a long moment before Lucifer gestures towards the sofa, “I can sleep -”

“No, don’t be silly, the couch is way to small for you to sleep on” she cuts him off. She’s not sure what to do next. She’s gotten what she wanted but even this is further than she planned, so she’s not sure how to move this awkward moment from her living room to them actually going to sleep. Even thinking it has her stifling a laugh. She takes a deep breath ad decides just to lean into the absurdity.

She nods, once, and mumbles a “come on” pulling him by the hand she is still holding towards her room. He stutter-steps in the threshold and she looks back at him, “I know this is weird, I was kind of hoping we could just ignore that and roll with it” she says, trying to project confidence she doesn’t have.

He nods a little, a quite “ah” escaping his lips as he leans on the doorway. She wonders what it says about her that she misses his inappropriate commentary and then, as if reading her mind, he adds “Not the way I thought I’d get into your bed, but in a pinch…” he says it cautiously, like he’s not sure he’s still allowed such jokes. She laughs, relieved and happy, then makes a show of rolling her eyes.

“I could get you something to sleep in, I probably have something -”

“I’m quite all right, Detective” he says, voice low as he catches her arm with a hand just above her wrist.

“Okay…okay” she nods a little and moves to the far side of the bed, sitting down and watching as he slowly does the same. After a long moment, she lays back and he mimics her. They are both laying on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, not touching at all. “Okay” she whispers again. 


	4. If I knew where, I wouldn’t be looking

She didn’t think she’d ever get to sleep, but she must have, because the next thing she knows she is blinking awake in Lucifer’s arms. He has one arm under her head (his bicep pillowing her head and covered in her hair, his arm bent at the elbow to cradle her head gently) and the other draped over her waist, fingers splayed against her back (like he thinks she’ll disappear) and she is pushed as close to him as she can be, her nose tucked into the hollow of his throat, brushing against him every time he breathes, one arm slung across his hips while her other arm is bent between their bodies, her palm against his chest, little bits of the fabric of his shirt trapped between her fingers (she thinks idly that he’ll be sad for the wrinkles). Their legs are tangled together and she can feel his breath across the top of her head with every exhale. She smiles, snuggling impossibly closer, thinking idly that this is how she wants to wake up always.

It takes a minute for her to understand what woke her up, but when she hears Dan’s hushed voice down the hall it dawns on her. Dan is never as loud as when he is trying to be quiet. She closes her eyes and sighs softly, she wants to stay like this – her mind tells her to savor it, that this might be the only time she ever gets it, that Lucifer might wake up and be the Lucifer he’s been since his return, cool and aloof and uninterested. But, as Dan and Trixie’s whisper argument continues, she feels like she has less and less choice. It was a good plan, Dan picking up Trixie so she could get some rest, but plans so rarely work out for her, she shouldn’t be surprised.

She winds the arm that she had wrapped around Lucifer’s body back to her first and slides the arm trapped between them to the solidness of the bed, so she can prop her elbow there and use it to raise her off the bed. His hand follows the back of her head for a moment before his fingers trail through her hair and back to the bed, forced by gravity. He makes a soft, displeased sound as she scoots back and her body heat starts to leave him and she stalls, smiling a little despite herself, and lets her hand slide against his jaw to cup his cheek. She runs the pad of her thumb lightly against his cheek bone and feels him shift into her hand.

“If I knew where, I wouldn’t be looking” she hears Trixie whisper shout from the living room and can’t stop the soft snort of laughter she lets out. It pulls her back to reality though, and she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the skin above Lucifer’s right eyebrow and watches him for just a second longer – in case this is the only time she gets to, before she sides her leg out from between his slowly and pulls the blanket up to cover him to his chin. When she finally slides to the edge of the bed and stands, Lucifer lets out a small noise that she thinks might be her name and her heart clenches. She goes his side of the bed and fusses with the blanket for an extra moment, before going out into the hall, pulling the door to her bedroom closed gently behind her.

“What’s up?” she whispers to Dan when she gets to the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Shit” Dan says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m sorry”. She shrugs and Dan gives her a guilty half smile. “Trix can’t find the shoes she needs for…something?” he says like he thinks the whole thing is ridiculous.

“I _told_ you, they aren’t in there” Trixie says, obstinate, when she comes back into the living room. “Mom, you were supposed to sleep in” she adds, angry when she sees Chloe.

“I’ll go back to bed when you guys leave” she promises but Trixie looks dubious. “Which shoes are you looking for?”

“The green ones, I’m going to Ashley’s later and we _have_ to match”. She says it like it will be the end of her world if she doesn’t match Ashley at the mall later and it’s easy for Chloe to see it for the insanity that it is, but it’s also easy for Chloe to remember middle-school-girl politics.

“In the bathroom, by the cabinet. We had to wash them when you got mud on them last week, remember?” and just like that, Trixie is half-running to the bathroom.

Chloe and Dan share a small smile before Dan clears his throat a little, “so how are you feeling?” he asks, voice low.

Chloe nods a little, her bruise hurts more today than it did, but she hopes that will fade as the day plays on and the scrape on her head feels like it is pulsing in time with her heart beats, but she doesn’t want Dan to worry so she says, “a little sore, but mostly fine” and she finds she means it.

Trixie comes back in with her shoes triumphally above her head, cutting off any follow up questions Dan might have had for her. Chole reaches out and grabs the edge of Trixie’s sleeve, pulling her daughter closer to her, “have fun this weekend, I’ll pick you up from school on Monday, yeah?” she says. Trixie nods and allows Chloe to pull her into a one arm hug.

“Love you, mom”

“Love you, Monkey”

“Seriously, Chlo, get some rest” Dan says as Trixie gathers the rest of her stuff and follows him to the door. She nods, promising to, and gives a little half wave as the go, walking to the door to lock it behind them so Trixie won’t have to fuss with it.

She’s not sure what to do now. She wants to go back to bed and slip back under the covers with Lucifer. The idea of waking up wrapped in him for a second time in a day seems impossibly delightful to her. But, now that she has left the safe cocoon of the bed, going back and pretending she hadn’t feels dishonest. She wonders if it would make Lucifer uncomfortable, knowing how they woke up, and that makes slipping back into bed with him feel like the wrong choice.

But she’s not sure what to do instead. She could made breakfast, but she has no idea when Lucifer will wake. She could sit in the arm chair in her room just to be in his company, but that feels creepy. She sighs and decides to go get her phone from her room and sit in the living room, reviewing information from the case while she waits for him to wake. She makes a stop in the bathroom and takes some ibuprofen before padding as quietly as she can back to her bedroom. She holds one hand against the door as she opens it, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. But, once the door is open, she can see that all her fretting was for naught, as Lucifer is sitting on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him, his hair a mess.

“I’m sorry we woke you” she says, whispering for some reason, with an apologetic smile.

“That’s quite alright, Detective, it _was_ a shoe emergency” he answers, all most no inflection. Chloe leans against the door frame, just to keep from shifting her weight from foot to foot nervously. She’s not sure what to do next, hasn’t yet worked out which version of Lucifer this is. She wants to go sit with him on the bed, suggest they try to get a little more sleep, but she can’t find the words or the courage. For his part, Lucifer mostly looks disoriented and confused, like he isn’t sure why he is still there or what he is meant to do next. He clears his throat and swings his legs to the side of the bed and stands, more gracefully than Chloe could have ever hoped to, “how about some breakfast, Detective?” he breezes past her.

“You don’t have to do that” she says, trailing behind him.

“Nonsense”

By the time she processes what is happening and catches up with him, he is rooting around in her fridge, seeming more at ease now that he has something to do. She thinks that he is like that – not believing that people want him around for just his company, but instead that he must be useful. She doesn’t know how to make him understand that she only wants his time.

She slips on to a stool at the island and picks at the quick of her nail with her thumb, watching him scramble eggs. She decides, to herself, that she isn’t going to let herself be too scared to ask him for answers today – she has this feeling that if he leaves without them talking today, they never will.

A plate of eggs appears in front of her and looks up at Lucifer and smiles in thanks and he smiles back – not a real one though, that million-dollar-smile he flashes in the club. She wonders if last night was it, some kind of brief return to the _them-ness_ she wanted so desperately, and now it’s over. He sets a cup of coffee to the corner of the pate and then slips onto the stool next to her – his own coffee and eggs in front of him.

They sit in silence until Chloe picks up her fork, which seems to break the spell and they both pick at their eggs. She’s not sure either of them actually eats more than a couple bites, but they both push the eggs around their plates. Chloe sets her fork to the side of her plate and picks up her coffee, taking a long drink and smiling into the cup when it is, of course, perfect.

She sets her cup down, closes her eyes, and counts to five in her head. She pulls in a deep breath and forces the words out fast, so she can’t back down, “Lucifer, can we talk?”

He’s holding his coffee cup, but not drinking,” of course, Detective”. He sounds uneasy, but that doesn’t surprise her – she’s used to him being wary of emotional conversation and he must know what this is going to be. He doesn’t turn to look at her, instead looking into the black coffee in his cup, his shoulders tense like he is bracing for a hit.

“I…” she shakes her head a little, “Well, I…” she sighs. There is a large part of her that worries that once she puts words to this, Lucifer will leave and she will have devastated herself. But, the thought of living in limbo with him forever, has her taking a steadying breath and forcing forward, “Lucifer, I know that things have been off since you got back,” Lucifer scoffs a little, next to her, but she presses forward, “and I have no idea what you went through, and you don’t have to talk about it, I’m not trying to force…” she hastens to add, even though she isn’t sure what the right thing to say is.

She shifts in her seat, so that she is facing Lucifer and rests her hand on his forearm. He flinches just slightly, bur before she has time to worry if she should pull her hand back, his hand comes up to cover hers, though he doesn’t speak or turn towards her. “Lucifer…I just…I want you to know that I mean what I said before you left. That I, well, that I love you.” She feels him tense and forces herself to continue – once this moment is over, she’s not sure she’ll ever get it back. “And I don’t know if you ever felt that way, or if you did what you feel now. And if you don’t, it’s okay…if you just want to be friends and partners, that is okay…I just…I had to say it.

Lucifer pulls in a sharp breath and stands abruptly, Chloe’s hand falling from his arm to land heavily on her own knee. For a terrible moment, Chloe is sure he is just going to leave, but he paces to the couch and back to her covering the ground in just a few long strides, stopping right in front of her. He breathes out her name and she closes her eyes, the sound of her actual name from him always affecting her.

He sighs softly and raises his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear then rest his hand on her cheek. Her eyes flutter open and he smiles tentatively when her eyes meet his. “Chloe…I never meant to create doubt about how I feel for you, of course I,” he swallows, “of course I care for you”. Chloe reaches up and circles his wrist with her fingers, just a point of contact to help ground her, and his thumb runs along her cheekbone carefully. “I’ve no idea what happens next – if I will be pulled back to Hell, or if some new atrocity will befall…and I, I suppose that I’ve been unsure if it is fair to pull you in to that.”

“Lucifer, I’m in it, I -”

“I know it was unfair of me” he interrupts her and she lets out a watery laugh. “I have never participated in a _relationship_ ,” he says it as if the entire idea confounds him, “and I’ve no idea how to do that, and I don’t…I don’t want to disappoint you, Chloe”

Her next breath chokes in the back of her throat and she can’t help herself, she fists her free hand in the fabric of his shirt and leans up to press her lips to his. He is off balance and the kiss pulls him forward, his hand reaches behind her to brace on the counter top for balance and it pulls him to stand between her legs, his hips tapping against her knees. When they pull back, he leans his forehead on hers and they both let out uneasy smiles.

“My life isn’t a fairytale, Lucifer, and I am not expecting to ride off into any sunsets.” She whispers, tightening her hand in his shirt, “There are a million things we’ll have to talk about and figure out and a million things that will be hard and complicated, but I want to try, if you do”

She’s looking up at him from under her eyelashes and she can feel her eyes filling with tears, knows that as soon as she blinks, they will fall. He leans back just enough to press his lips to her hairline, his hand leaving the countertop behind her now that they are steady, and cups the back of her neck gently, holding her to him. “I do want to try” he whispers against her hair and she closes her eyes, tears falling, and she just holds on to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. I truly appreciate ever kudo and comment! Thank you!


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